


Debriefing

by horusporus



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Old Work Repost, i just wanted Teyla to hang out at the SGC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horusporus/pseuds/horusporus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teyla at the SGC. Playing b-ball with Teal'c & Ronon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

> [this is part of my own personal effort to have a single point of reference for all the scattered writing I have done through the years. First posted on LJ in 2006. All subsequent content is as previously posted]

The debriefing takes place in the SGC – with the Wraith almost arriving at the Milky Way, when the Orii are making their incursions no longer secret nor subtle, means the top brass is in a state of high alert unseen since…  
  
… well, since the last time an alien race so much as breathed in Earth’s general direction.  
  
But that is not known to Teyla, who is impressed, despite herself, with the sense of urgency that permeates the walls of the Stargate Command. The commander of this facility, one General Landry, has apologized for the state of disarray – he explains, in that gruff, heavily referential (and thus abstruse) Earthian manner, that their last battle with the Orii resulted in heavy casualty and losses. More than half of his conversational chatter is just white noise as he accompanies her to the infirmary, filled as it is with references to battles she has no knowledge of, and more, of idioms, people, events and  _tv shows_  that she can never possibly keep up with.  
  
There are times, more so in the beginning, when she feels such frustration and anger at the casual thoughtlessness of the Atlanteans, whose conversations are greased by inanities and minutiae she has not yet encountered. She had been frustrated that they made her feel like a simpleton, when she has been to more planets and met with more cultures than most of them ever thought to imagine.  
  
But eventually she understood, and with understanding came acceptance, the kind of acceptance an older sibling has for the foibles of the younger child, so callous in his naïveté. They cannot help being so diverse and yet so closeted – even the most metropolitan of them never grew up with the idea of communing with other races of other planets, located so casually in the background of their education.   
  
Will they ever learn enough of ‘gate etiquette and its own particular inflection-less language, she wonders even as she nods in thanks to General Landry as they arrive at the infirmary, and at least she understands deeply his warm regards as he leaves and walks along the hallways that reminds her a little of the Genii underground bunkers that John once described.  
  
The infirmary is full, and the occupants are becoming familiar to her in her visits. People of many nationalities and allegiances – this galaxy is teeming with life, bursting at the seams, inhabitants of a single planet having the luxury to divide themselves along arbitrary lines of color and ideology. The petty squabbles she has witnessed among the Atlanteans has context now. Those patches on their sleeves are more than fabric to them – they have meaning.  
  
But despite that, their divisions and differences are still planet-bound; the magnitude of their divide epic only in the scale of one solitary planet.  
  
From beyond hastily drawn curtains, she can hear the curses from a crisp female voice, raining deprecations on everyone, especially one Doctor– “DANIEL JACKSON! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”  
  
Ronon groans as Teyla nears. “She’s been like this all morning,” he mutters. She smiles and grips his hand gently. He replies with a marginally stronger squeeze.   
  
“It is a wonder that Doctor McKay is still sleeping,” she says with a smile, absently straightening out the folds of the blanket with her free hand.  
  
Ronon shifts, discomfort flashing across his face. “Whatever he’s on, I want some of it,” he says, but he does not hide the worry in his eyes as he looks at the sleeping figure on the bed next to his. Teyla merely gives him another squeeze.   
  
Vala Mal Doran’s voice is still ringing clearly, throughout this part of the infirmary at least.  
  
Rodney McKay is still, oblivious to the world.  
  
“Sheppard?” Ronon grunts, as he shifts to make himself more comfortable.  
  
Teyla keeps gentle pressure on his shoulders, and a stronger one for the hand in her grip. With a barely-heard sigh, Ronon settles down again. Satisfied, she answers, “Debriefing. Doctor Weir is with him, along with Doctor Beckett.”  
  
“Sounds fun,” is Ronon’s only comment after a pause, and she does not feel any need to add anything to it. She is not blind – she has noticed the antagonism between Colonel Caldwell and the Atlantean upper echelon. She has yet to decide whether the antagonism is representative of the homeworld, or of this organization at least. She hopes the debriefing will go well, and if not forgiveness, at least understanding for the rash actions the Atlanteans have taken.  
  
“‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread’,” she murmurs absently. She is particularly taken with this local proverb, probably because it describes this race so particularly well.  
  
And Ronon understands. A whole race of people like this, so new to ‘gate travel, yet so willing to indulge in ill-considered plans. He shrugs, as best he can, “You can’t break habit.”  
  
Rodney sleeps on.  
  
\---------------------------  
  
It still fascinates her, how various cultures develop and evolve – why a certain culture chooses to concentrate more on a particular field, why another is so peculiarly advanced in some fields while remaining stubbornly backward in others. It is a pet inclination she nurtures because it helps in her role – a glimmer of understanding, after all, may just be the opening for her to strike the decisive move in negotiations and diplomacy.  
  
It is almost a week, Earth-time, now. Rodney is awake, though not completely lucid yet. Ronon is suffering through another bout of Physical Training – and she has heard his very strong opinions on the matter many times before, in the aftermath of the almost fatal shot Thelan had delivered with John’s hands, that his grumblings now only earned him an extra dose of her barbed wit couched in commiserations. As for John and the rest, she barely gets to see them, shuttled as they are from one meeting room to the next. Often her input is needed and that is where she sees them most. Yet she still has plenty of time to herself, it seems.  
  
Elizabeth and Carson have made their rounds to the infirmary, cautious apologies wrapped in concern, which Ronon waved off and Rodney too deep in recovery to understand. John, if she sees him, she would see at night, upright but no better-looking than the occupants of the infirmary he seems to be keeping watch over. She would come closer and he would nod, and sometimes they would talk but more often they would not.   
  
If there is blame to be apportioned, she wants to begin, it is to be shared equally. But she never says those words, because even to her, those words cannot begin to alleviate the burden of command, something she intimately understands and John may pretend to deny. It is the drive that urges her towards this room at every available time.  
  
Besides, pack loyalty bonds them – stronger than blood, nearer than kin, deeper than faith. They hurt, and she hurts. But there are salves for physical pain, and she is now in another galaxy: their customs are not hers, and while she might be adept in teaching hers so that others will feel welcome, John is not.  
  
And so they stand, closer than a breath but separated by a wall of unfamiliarity, looking on at their fallen comrades.  
  
\-------------------  
  
Someone has left Rodney a pendant hanging on a silver chain from the head rail. The nurses say it is Colonel Carter – Teyla hopes it is the same blonde Rodney has frequently mentioned, volubly and at length. Even if otherwise, he will still be insufferable. It is a miniature of a man with a star shining over him, St. Dominic, the patron saint for scientists and astronomers. “And falsely accused people,” the colonel reportedly said as she smiled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment.”  
  
“On Sateda, we had someone like that,” Ronon says, once he considers the pendant in his hand. “He wasn’t a saint though,” he recalls in amusement. “We called him Neshrat the trickster. He looks over those in need, gives them the wits to escape.”  
  
“On Athos we call him Harikh,” she says. “He was the one who named the stars.”  
  
Miko – who has been in SGC for a three-month exchange all this while – leaves Rodney a bowl of paper cranes. Each crane is a prayer, she says, as they talk quietly, catching up between acquaintances.  
  
When John sees the bowl, he talks about a monument for peace, overflowing with handfolded prayers from children all over the world. He promises to take her there.  
  
He is not the only person who has been promising her trips. Every other Earth person it seems, will, in the course of their conversation, mention a place that they will then promise to bring her along to. For the moment, she files away the invitations as mere pleasantries, even John’s.  
  
It is around then that Rodney awakens again. Later, he will simply dismiss all the suggestions. “It’s not like you can’t just turn on the tv for a sample,” hand waving weakly.  
  
“But it’s not the same, McKay,” protests John, smiling.  
  
\--------------------------  
  
It is in the rec room that she meets Teal’c. Looking back, she thinks that she would have met him earlier, in the training rooms, challenging him for a spar.  
  
Instead she meets him in a room while he’s watching a show that he says to be about a group of well-dressed people stranded on an island. It is supposed to be a comedy.  
  
He inclines his head as she takes her seat. She has just left Ronon to his physical trainer, John is in another meeting, and this time Rodney is with him.  
  
They do not talk much, but she does ask about the endless array of costumes for people supposedly stuck on an island, and some of the finer points of the humor. She hesitates to ask at first, fearing garbled answers rife with references to other things she has not gotten around to knowing, but he too has started out a stranger to Earth, she learns to her pleasure, and so his answers, though still a little alien, are a little more understandable.  
  
That first meeting alone she finally understands what Jeopardy (and Double Jeopardy) is.  
  
The second meeting occurs when she is already keeping a tight leash on her anger. She cannot deny the extent of the Orii threat, but she cannot accept the proposal of a severe reduction to the Atlantis expedition. Yes, their galaxy is under threat, but so is hers, and she feels she has the right to her selfishness. The more she argues, the less the Atlanteans speak. Neither does Ronon, but he presses closer, and growls whenever necessary.   
  
Teal’c comes from the direction of the infirmary, which provides for the initial conversation: the drug tretonin and the injuries he and others have suffered in the first outright engagement with the Orii in this galaxy.  
  
“You must understand our predicament,” he says in his calm measured tones, in counterpoint with the shrill screaming of a woman on-screen as she is hunted by a man in a (hockey!) mask.  
  
“And you must understand ours,” she returns evenly, her temper boiling just underneath.  
  
“I have been with the Tau’ri long,” Teal’c begins, in the lull between one on-screen murder and another. Teyla takes a moment to register his name for the Atlanteans. “They may be altogether foolish at times to us, and they may not yet collectively understand that this universe is larger than their planet, but they have their brand of honor, and they will not do you wrong, Teyla Emmagen.”  
  
“Of the Atlanteans that I know, this I have no doubt. But I cannot share your confidence for their fellow people.” She sighs. “Their fear is too strong.”  
  
“It will not be their undoing yet,” is his answer.  
  
They continue watching the television in silence, as Teyla negotiates possible options and trade-offs in her mind. She has lived with the threat of the Wraith for too long and too closely, that even though faced with idea of the Orii, her instinctive reaction is skepticism that there is such a thing worse than the Wraith. She will not downplay the Wraith, but neither can she ignore that the home galaxy of the Atlanteans is under imminent threat of beings that are practically kin to the Ancestors, and far more ruthless. But she will not have her galaxy’s plight be treated as inferior; it is not like the people of Pegasus could not get by before the arrival of the Atlanteans. But is her pride influencing her head, she cannot tell.  
  
“What makes you so certain?” she finally demands.  
  
After a beat – a long beat where she thinks he will ask for clarification to her question – he answers with a grave nod that does nothing to hide his amusement – amusement at the– Tau’ri (she stumbles over the term) more than at her.   
  
“Because, Teyla Emmagen, they have a long-established habit of waging quixotic quests and unwinnable wars for some principle that only time will tell is right or wrong. I suggest you take this trait as your advantage.” His smile is reassuring and conspiratorial at the same time.  
  
She quirks her mouth in reply.  
  
\----------  
  
Their third meeting involves Ronon as well, and an indoor court and an inflatable orange ball. Teal’c says he will be honored if he can teach them basketball, and she bows her head even as Ronon asks for the ball and the game to begin.   
  
“2 against 1, isn’t that a little unfair?” Ronon asks, no question in his mind how it is being divided.  
  
“I’d play, but that’ll make the scales tip a little in our favor, if you know what I mean,” Vala says from the sidelines as she enters the court area, petting her stomach and blowing a kiss to Ronon, who is a little nonplussed. Teyla has not had the opportunity to get to know Vala Mal Doran better, but she does have a pleasant low voice when she is not screaming.  
  
For Daniel Jackson, who is right behind her. “You’re also pregnant,” he states unnecessarily.   
  
“Yes, that’s right, whatever was I thinking,” Vala says sotto voce. She brightens, “all the more reason for you to play, Daniel darling!”  
  
“Why?” asks Daniel suspiciously.  
  
(Teyla had once asked Col. Cameron Mitchell if Dr. Daniel Jackson, like Rodney, had a brusque manner with people. Gen. O’Neill, who happened to have overheard her question, wryly commented that you need to first be aware of people to be deliberately brusque. Mitchell had assured her that he only got that way when he either had too much of Vala. Or Jack.)  
  
“Make nice with the guests, Daniel,” Vala says from the corner of her mouth. “They might have presents.”  
  
“Fine,” he mutters, even as he shucks out to his undershirt. “Stop leering, Vala,” he says, not turning around.  
  
“Don’t be jealous, Daniel, I’m an equal opportunity pervert,” she says loftily, her hand still unconsciously petting her stomach.  
  
(Vala Mal Doran, Rodney had once said, in between feasting on smuggled blue jello courtesy of John and herself, was like Sheppard if he had breasts and was actually aware of the effect he had on people. And what effect would that be, Rodney, John had asked mildly as he handed over another jello cup, his hand lingering on Rodney’s wrist. Teyla had pretended not to see that and the blush that bloomed on Rodney’s face as he’d hurriedly took another spoonful of jello.)  
  
Teal’c quickly establishes the ground rules, and the game is underway, punctuated by Vala’s catcalls and appreciative remarks, which makes Teyla grin over how much it throws Ronon, even if that means her side is very obviously trailing behind.  
  
“Dr. Jackson,” she begins, the moment the ball is in his possession, “I find it fascinating, at how the belief systems of our two galaxies had developed and diverged.”  
  
Daniel pauses, taking a moment to consider. “You’re right. Your galaxy’s belief system, in contrast with ours, operates on the conviction of the existence of the Ancients. In our case, centuries of Go’auld manipulation caused deviation in many planets’ understanding of the higher power concept. Of course, in the case of Earth in recent times, being left completely to our own devices has caused even more divergent branches to exist, as we attempt to construct a coherent philosophical and spiritual corpus that explains the universe. And on the other hand, you have the Orii home galaxy, where the Alterans first came–” At that point Ronon simply plucks the ball from Daniel’s loose fingers, and easily scores what Teal’c has explained earlier as a ‘three-pointer’.  
  
“Engaging in intellectual discourse on the court: that’s cheating!” Vala cries.   
  
“It was honest curiosity, Ms. Mal Doran,” says Teyla with a smile. It is true, to a certain extent.   
  
Vala jumps up and looks about theatrically. “Did someone see my mother?”  
  
“You should sit down, Vala, before Daniel Jackson makes you,” Teal’c notes, effortlessly keeping the rebounded ball away from Ronon. Making the throw, not even checking to see if it made past the hoop, he continues, “It is fascinating how much uncertainty over our origins has led to diverse beliefs in this particular galaxy. In the absence of gods, we persist in having faith in higher powers.”  
  
“I used to be a god,” Vala sighs wistfully.   
  
“And what a wonderful god you were, maintaining the practice of slavery for naquadah,” says Daniel breathlessly, as he blocks Teyla from stealing the ball.  
  
“I was a perfectly lovely deity, the odd bout of manual labor notwithstanding. You can’t blame me for taking advantage of an existing system of belief. AND I was in no way responsible for any sort of plagues whatsoever,” Vala rebuts.  
  
“She was a… god?” Ronon asks, as he tries his hand at dribbling the ball away from Teal’c.  
  
Teal’c hums. “A false one,” he says with a certain sense of satisfaction.  
  
“Don’t think I can’t still smite you where you stand,” Vala threatens.  
  
“As they say, ‘I would like to see you try’,” says Teal’c.  
  
Teyla has no rejoinder to add, but she is enjoying herself, belatedly realizing that what she has been missing in her stay here is active company. She bounces the ball, running, Ronon lifting her as she scores another point. She comes down on the floor grinning, when instinct makes her turn around towards the entrance of the court.   
  
John is standing, face relaxed but unsmiling. He comes no closer.   
  
She does not think he will appreciate her saying anything that will alert the rest of his presence. She tilts her head in invitation. He gives a minute shake of the head, and leaves.   
  
Turning back, she is just in time to receive the ball from Ronon. If the rest notice, they make no indication.  
  
Unsurprisingly, she and Ronon lose, but not by far. Teal’c graciously offers a rematch, and she accepts in kind. Walking towards the cafeteria, she tries not to laugh as Vala sidles up to Ronon, purring, “Heya there, big boy.”  
  
\-----------------------------------  
  
It has been a week and a half. Elizabeth comes by her quarters, with a quart of ice-cream: triple chocolate, the Atlantean flavor of choice, though the make of the carton is different than what is the Daedalus’s usual consignment.   
  
“It’s Swiss,” Elizabeth explains, when she asks – she is pretty fluent in reading English now, but at least this other earth language shares almost all of the alphabet. “They’re known for their chocolates and, well, this,” Elizabeth holds up the carton. “This was a special favor.”  
  
“Is this a special occasion?” Teyla asks.  
  
“No,” Elizabeth sighs. “Unless you want to count ‘trying not to go out of my mind’ a special occasion.”   
  
“But you always are –”  
  
“Don’t finish that thought,” Elizabeth holds up a spoon admonishingly. Teyla nods in acquiescence.   
  
Elizabeth opens the lid carefully and sighs again at the untouched expanse of frozen cream. Handing another spoon to Teyla, she asks, “How’s Rodney?”  
  
Taking the first scoop, Teyla replies, “He is well.”  
  
“I’ve been meaning to see him more,” Elizabeth states. Teyla nods but makes no other response. Elizabeth takes it as some other cue, and launches into another innocuous topic, which leads to another, and another. All in all, the small talk manages to last for three quarters of the carton.  
  
Eventually Elizabeth says, “It won’t exactly be first-year Atlantis, but we’re probably looking forward to some lean years ahead of us.”  
  
“Making do is a popular habit of the Pegasus galaxy Doctor Weir.” Teyla punctuates her words with a lick of her spoon.  
  
Elizabeth smiles at the wry statement. But the smile flees as she speaks next, “The fact that the Wraith hive ship was so close to the Milky Way” – close enough to make the SGC the better location for emergency treatment than Atlantis itself – “when we barely got away from the Orii was not something the people in charge had wanted to hear.”  
  
Teyla nods again. Making war on two fronts is never something to look forward to. “But neither the Orii nor the Wraith should be underestimated.”  
  
“Yes,” Elizabeth says with a small frown. “But for Earth, the immediate danger is the Orii. And we may have defeated the bulk of the Goa’uld and the Replicators, but we can’t discount a reappearance of either.” A twist of the mouth as she stabs the ice-cream in the carton with her spoon. “We’re a young race, Teyla, you know that, in terms of inter-stellar travel and relations. Yet, we pick fights we barely win, using weapons we barely know; we gather enemies like it’s going out of fashion. But somehow, we scrape through.”  
  
“Teal’c has described your race as being particularly audacious,” Teyla offers.  
  
Elizabeth gives a snort. “Teal’c was just being polite. There’s a word I’d use, and ‘audacious’ isn’t it.” She stands up and paces – Elizabeth never really paces, she tends to grow more still as the danger grows. Teyla cannot tell whether the pacing is a good or bad sign. “Eventually, I believe we can defeat the Wraith. The Orii too, if we keep at it. But together at the same time?”  
  
“Earth’s concern is well-placed –”  
  
“Yes, but Atlantis is my home too!” Elizabeth stops and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”  
  
“Perhaps, Doctor Weir, you need some more ice-cream.”  
  
Elizabeth laughs at the glint in Teyla’s eye. “For a moment I thought you’d like to ask me to meditate with you,” she says, settling down again.  
  
“After the ice-cream, perhaps.”  
  
In the companionable silence, Teyla ponders. She is at the meetings too, she knows exactly what is at stake. The Daedalus will no longer be guaranteed to arrive every six weeks – like every available starship, its priority is the Orii engagement. The tentative schedule so far is once every three months. And perhaps even then it will not be the Daedalus. No, hopefully it will not be like the first year on Atlantis, but what is certain, more trading relationships need to be created, the present ones fostered. Without the supplies from Earth as a bartering tool, Atlantis must develop some other forms of services and goods, beyond the medical services and the mainland crops that they have now. Food, on the whole, will still be plentiful – Earth food however, may need rationing. So too the uniforms, ordnances, medical supplies – the austerity drive would have to begin immediately. Taking the long-view, the Atlanteans need to consider viewing themselves as a settlement, rather than a mere expedition –   
  
“Hey,” Elizabeth’s face is looking hesitantly at her, interrupting her reverie. “I’m not the biggest fish in the pond anymore, but I’m still pretty big. I could get us clearance… and we could watch a movie?”  
  
“I would love to,” Teyla replies.  
  
\--------------------------------  
  
Vala coos at her new boots and slacks, as they gather in the rec room along with Ronon and Teal’c. Ronon is escaping his physical trainer, and Vala is taking a rest from hunting Daniel Jackson. Teal’c, Teyla suspects, is tailing Vala to make sure she will not actually find him.  
  
“Credit cards,” Vala sighs, running her fingers along the seams of the boots, “best invention on this planet, bar none. Can you imagine, if the little people of this world ever got wind of what’s really going on, and their biggest export to the universe at large would be capitalism? They’re just so good at it,” she finishes with another sigh of admiration.  
  
Ronon has an unreadable look watching Vala’s fingers. Pregnant or not, Vala Mal Doran remains a stunning woman. Teyla tries not to smile, and contemplates extending an invitation back to Atlantis, however unrealistic.  
  
“But consider first the feasibility of a central monetary system than spans systems…” Ronon murmurs.   
  
Vala blinks first. “All right, let’s consider it.”  
  
Ronon continues, punctuated and interrupted by Teal’c and Vala. Teyla would contribute, but bartering is what she is best at, and her level of economic knowledge is not sophisticated enough to argue the merits (and otherwise) of establishing a shared monetary system recognized by disparate systems. Athos was great once, but Athosians have spent too long lost as wanderers (Vagrants, Rodney had said in a fit of frustration. Gypsies, John had parried, and he meant it as better but she can never be sure). She can understand the gist of the current tangent (determining the item for which to base the monetary value) but not the details.  
  
“To even get to the level where you could remove yourself from the naquadah standard, and peg the value of your currency on its supposed predicted value…” muses Vala. Then she shakes herself. “I’m too tired to debate economics, but who knew you could, eh Ronon?”  
  
“He has his moments,” Teyla smiles. Ronon gives a tiny improvised Marine salute.  
  
“And you!” Vala turns. “I’ve been here far longer, got involved in a mess I am in no way responsible for–” Teal’c snorts, “– and got knocked up and still they won’t let me out of this mountain (well, except that one time, and after that never again, Daniel said). What are humans, like, really?”  
  
“Well,” Teyla hesitates.  
  
“Is it like on tv?”  
  
Teyla is still considering on how to answer, when Teal’c says, “When I was first here, I had assumed this world was warlike and in constant peril. I had wanted to take my staff weapon on my first outing.”  
  
Teyla laughs aloud. Earth news does tend to have that effect on people.  
  
“Well,” Vala urges, unsatisfied with Teal’c’s account. “They keep saying that those here are their best and brightest – though I have doubts – so what’s their worst and dimmest like?”  
  
“They seem like people everywhere else. They seem more affluent – more inclined to shop frivolously.” Teyla after all, had gone out for a movie and some shopping, so there should be no surprise why her observations are skewed that way. “They seem friendly.” She smiles. “They don’t bite. But,” she frowns, “it is as Dr. Jackson says, it is only one state in one country. I am told that there are very clear differences as you go further.”  
  
“Indeed,” Teal’c agrees. “The SGC is actually a good representation of the Tau’ri, Vala. And I think you have made your own judgement.”  
  
Vala groans and covers her eyes. “An entire  _planet_  of  _them_?”  
  
“I think I understand McKay now,” Ronon says.  
  
\-----------------------------------------  
  
Two weeks now and here they are, gathered in the gateroom but only to be beamed into the Daedalus. Will this be the last time she will ever see the ship and its crew? Fervently she hopes not. It is selfishness – the selfishness one has in the face of the possibility of fallen comrades in a war.  
  
Rodney is improving, if his appetite is to be believed. John … a little paler, a little stretched around the edges, but in their presence the tension is less. No one comments that he is Rodney’s shadow, and either Rodney does not mind or does not realize, but no one is in any hurry to enlighten him.  
  
Elizabeth is off to the side, having a quiet chat with Generals Landry and O’Neill. Teyla is not sure who they are waiting for – the Daedalus is ready, awaiting the command to beam them up. Rodney and John, of course; Ronon looking anxious, for Ronon, at the entrance of the gateroom. Carson, standing a little removed from them, that perpetual frown that has taken up residence in between his brows showing no signs of leaving. She hitches her pack higher. It has been … interesting, but she is going home.  
  
Footsteps echo and come closer. Vala’s voice proclaims their appearance as effective as anything, caught up in an argument with an equally strident Daniel Jackson. General O’Neill trades a long suffering look with General Landry, and having made his excuses, moves to greet the new arrivals. Specifically, to bump shoulders with Daniel, who shrugs irritably, as he continues his argument.  
  
“Oh, they cannot be more obvious,” Rodney mutters, eyes searching for any sign of the elusive Colonel Carter perhaps. John just smirks in reply, “Discretion the better part of valor, Rodney.”   
  
The argument ends, effectively by Vala suddenly marching, as much as a pregnant lady can, towards Ronon, and impulsively giving him a kiss. John gives soft whoop.  
  
“Don’t forget to write,” she says with a wink.  
  
“In which language?” Ronon points out.  
  
Daniel looks nonplussed, as Jack grins unrepentantly, his arm around Daniel’s shoulders.  
  
Vala considers Ronon’s question. “Good question,” she finally allows.   
  
In the meantime, Teyla finds herself facing Teal’c. “It has been a pleasure, Teyla Emmagen,” he says in his solemn voice.  
  
“Likewise,” she answers. Even as she smiles, she cannot feel completely pleased with this trip. She lowers her voice and confides, as their foreheads touch, “I still do not have confidence in the people of this world to –”  
  
“Have faith,” Teal’c advises as they part. “It is not their way to abandon friends. This is something we all share.”  
  
But how long can this last, Teyla wonders as she merely nods.  
  
The intercom pings, and Caldwell’s voice comes through, asking about their status, not so obviously enquiring if they’re ready. Elizabeth, head upturned a little, answers in the affirmative, shoulders her pack and stands next to her.   
  
General Landry nods, as General O’Neill gives a little wave. “Don’t be strangers now,” O’Neill calls out.   
  
“You too,” Elizabeth replies, as the surroundings blurs and coalesces into the bridge of the Daedalus.   
  
On the bridge, Caldwell merely says, “Set course for Atlantis, Lieutenant.”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
Teyla turns and looks at the stars flashing by. Home.

**Author's Note:**

> Sheppard’s doesn’t figure much in this fic, and neither does McKay. Funny thing is, in reading fics I’m inclined to read about the two boys first, but you do what your muse tells you. Thing is, the way it is, they’re probably in another fic, with more angst etc. XD But this is Teyla’s story. John would have to angst in the wings. Watching the show, I am like the aliens too, aren’t I? (being non-American and all)


End file.
